


Giuramento

by sagetea



Category: Uncharted (Video Games), Uncharted 4 - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Art Thief Samuel Drake, Attempt at Humor, Bisexual Samuel Drake, M/M, Me trying my best to write something coherent, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25346404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sagetea/pseuds/sagetea
Summary: Sam Drake's mundane life takes a dramatic turn when he receives an unexpected phone call from someone who knows about his hidden past.What ensues is a search bringing him to Venice where he has to obtain a mysterious artifact that is owned by the renowned millionaire, Raphael Adler. Dark secrets soon start to unfold in the city of romance and enigmas.
Relationships: Rafe Adler & Samuel Drake, Rafe Adler/Samuel Drake
Comments: 12
Kudos: 27





	Giuramento

**Author's Note:**

> I recently finished Uncharted 4 and got instantly enamored with Sam and Rafe, there is so much to write around those two, although their inteactions aren't frequent in the game. The two years they've spent together leaves much to the imagination. I know this fandom isn't as active as before ( and I'm obviously late to the party :') )? But this fic idea was floating in my head for a while, and I thought why not give it a try. This is purely self-indulgent, and I don't know where exactly it'll go and how frequently I'll update. I was actually hesitant to post this fic, but maybe it might still be alright to share.
> 
> I apologize in advance, english isn't my first language, please bear with me.

The auditorium was silent as Sam leaned nonchalantly against his desk with his arms crossed. His watchful gaze wandered along the students’ heads as they were all hunched over their test sheets. Some of them were writing frantically, throwing quick glances at the clock on the wall across the amphitheatre. At that, Sam glanced at his wristwatch and let out a slight huff through his nostrils.

“Five minutes left, everyone,” Sam announced and couldn't suppress a chuckle when he heard a few sharp intakes of breaths and murmurs.

Upon seeing the helpless looks on some of his students’ faces, he eventually took pity on them and leaned further back on his desk with an exaggerated sigh.

“Alright, fifteen minutes, but no more. I'm in a hurry and I'm hungry.”

A few students laughed, tension draining from their tense shoulders, and Sam couldn't help but smile a little wider. He would never admit it outwardly, but he sure had a soft spot for his students. He wasn't capable of being stern around them. After waiting further for a while, time was finally up and Sam stretched his hand out as the first students walked down the stairs and handed him the sheets over.

“Thanks a bunch, Mister Drake,” a young man said in a relieved tone to which Sam made a dismissive move of his hand.

“No problem. Now relax, holidays are are comin’ around.”

The atmosphere became instantly more joyful at the mention of a well earned break, and the group of students already started chattering excitedly as they gave Sam their filled out exam sheets. They bid Sam goodbye and soon he was alone, rearranging the heavy stack of papers on his desk and letting out a drawn out groan. Finally it was over.

Knowing that for the next few weeks he was exempt of giving lectures for a while made him feel both pleased and a little nostalgic. After a whole semester of stressful work he certainly needed some time-out. Though, he had to admit that the act of teaching had grown on him, and each time when the end of an academic year arrived it was always a little sad to watch his students go. 

“ _You’re growing soft, Sam_ ,” Nate would always tease, and Sam couldn’t help but let out a self-deprecating chuckle at that thought.

“Huh, maybe you’re right…”

Sam felt suddenly the telltale itch for a smoke, and he rummaged in the pockets of his jeans while balancing the stack of papers on one arm. He was about to put a rumpled cigarette between his lips when the exit door next to his right swung open and a slim woman nearing her thirties entered the amphitheatre. As her gaze landed on him, she shook her head with a wry smile and took a few steps forward, the sound of her high heels reverberating in the spacious hall.

“Smoking again in the amphi, Mister Drake?” the woman chided playfully, which caused Sam to give a tiny snort.

“You got me, Sarah,” he exclaimed with feigned regret and unabashedly pulled out the lighter. He wagged his eyebrows and grinned upon seeing the woman rolling her eyes. “Hey, it’s nothin’, no one sees me.”

“You’re lucky I don’t tell anyone,” Sarah huffed and walked towards him until she was close enough Sam could see her freckles and the residue of red dye in the dark strands of her hair.

“Besides,” she went on with a smirk, “A smoke detector will be installed before you come back for the next semester. So, enjoy your last cig while you can.”

“Ah shit, that’s evil,” Sam grumbled between puffs, and Sarah smiled triumphantly.

“Security measures. Nothing personal.”

“Of course,” Sam sighed and plucked the half-burned cigarette from his mouth, letting his gaze travel along the walls of the amphi with a forlorn expression. “Goodbye, my friend.”

Sarah chuckled. “You’re incorrigible, Mister Drake.”

They both laughed, and Sam dutifully squashed the cigarette on the little ashtray he had always with him on the desk. He wanted to tease Sarah little more, though he knew when to draw the line when it came to professional camaraderie. So, he refrained from opening his mouth again and turned to pick up his satchel from his seat. 

It had been almost ten years now since Sam had started to teach history of art at the university. Despite what Nate and everyone who knew him sometimes claimed, Sam knew perfectly well when to behave seriously and professionally. However, at times, it could happen that his playful and snarky nature slipped through the strict facade which, much to his embarrassment and dismay, caused some students to act overly familiar around him. It wasn’t the first time that one brave or rather suicidal student would walk up to him and ask him out, which systematically resulted in Sam rejecting them in the politest and smoothest way possible. But let’s be honest, the literal painful awkwardness that ensued was horrible enough to give Sam headaches.

Of course Sam had to apply the same caution to Sarah, his teaching assistant. She was a brilliant young woman on her way to finish her masters in archeology. Since she had started working for him, Sam’s abysmal time and work management had improved exponentially. Over the year they had developed sort of an amiable acquaintanceship, and Sam was more than grateful to have her by his side. Though, he was well aware of the shy, almost imperceptible advances she would make towards him now and then. If they had known each other under different circumstances, Sam maybe might have reciprocated. She was pretty and quick witted, and her sense of humor matched almost his own to a frightening degree. Though, Sam wasn’t sure if he was becoming jaded, but the possibility of entering a relationship didn’t appeal to him as much as it used to years ago.

Shit. Maybe he _was_ truly getting old.

Sam inwardly shook his head and threw the satchel over his shoulder, readjusting the stack of papers on his other arm. He turned towards Sarah and cleared his throat.

“So, where to now? You have anything planned for this break?”

Sarah smiled mildly and shook her head.

“Not really, no. I think I’ll try to catch up on some residual work that’s been piling up at my place lately.” 

She winced at her last words to which Sam tsked in feigned reprimand.

“Hey, you’ve already overworked yourself too much. Try to get some rest, alright? Or you’ll make me look like a heartless man in front of my colleagues.”

At that, his assistant let out a timid chuckle, shaking her head. “I doubt they’d ever see you that way.”

“You don’t know those bastards,” Sam snorted.

Sarah let out another puff of laughter, then suddenly pursed her lips. A strange look crossed her fair features and she opened her mouth, hesitantly.

“Mister Drake, I was wondering--”

The shrill ringing of Sam’s phone made them both jump, and Sam wincend, sending Sarah a swift look. He frantically fished the phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. Sam felt a little bad, but for once he thanked Nate’s annoying habit to call him just after his lectures. He tried to look apologetic as he turned towards his assistant and nodded at her.

“I’m sorry, I have to pick up. I’ll call you for the next session, alright?”

“Um, y-yes. Of course. I’ll see you later, Mister Drake.”

Sam almost missed the disappointed look in Sarah’s eyes, and he wished he had, as he turned around and walked towards the exit. As soon as he was outside he sighed internally and rubbed his eyes, recollecting himself before picking up.

“Hey punk, what’s up?”

Nate’s immediate warm laughter flowed through the speaker, and it instantly soothed Sam’s jumbling thoughts, making him grin from ear to ear. 

“‘What’s up’? I’m just calling to remind you that you promised to come over today.”

“Oh, shit. I almost forgot. Sorry, busy day,” Sam smiled sheepishly, to which Nate chuckled goodnaturedly.

“I knew it. Elena just told me she’s convinced your scatterbrain has forgotten our invitation.”

“Ouch, cut a guy some slack”, Sam gasped theatrically, and he could practically hear Nate’s eyeroll.

“Okay, so, are you coming or not?”

“Yeah, yeah. I was just leaving the amphi. I’m just gonna put those exam sheets in my office and I’m ready to go.”

“Great! See you later, then.”

“Yeah, see ya, Nate.”

Sam hung up and put the phone back in his pocket, a tiny smirk gracing his lips. As he leisurely crossed the inner courtyard of the establishment, he pulled out another cigarette, his thoughts wandering towards his brother.

Since Nate had met his wife Elena, he had become much more happier and laid-back, in contrast to that fateful period when he used to hunt for archeological treasures in some godforsaken places. Of course the almost primal urge to go on adventures would at all times be a part of him, and Sam had always felt that excitement in Nathan’s eyes whenever his focus was drawn to a new treasure hunt. But this kind of activity had also its price, and more times than Sam could count Nate had often found himself in tricky, nearly life threatening situations. It was when Elena became pregnant that Nathan had truly realized the gravity of his perilous lifestyle, and decided to put an end to this and focus on his new family. Sam had to admit that at first he had been a little distrustful of Elena. He was Nate’s older brother, and his sense of protectiveness was something he still had trouble to control.

Though, after meeting Elena several times throughout the years, and seeing the genuine love and devotion that transmitted between her and Nate, Sam had rapidly grown fond of her, and never did he dare imagine another fate for his little brother. He was truly glad to know that Nate was living safely now. A risk-free life that could also be applied to Sam himself. Though… Sam still wondered sometimes if this rather rewarding, although uneventful lecturer lifestyle was a way of living that he really enjoyed.

Memories of his past slowly trickled into Sam’s thoughts like black tar, and he quickly chased them away with a brisk shake of his head. He took a long drag on his cigarette and closed his eyes, the nicotine calming his ruffled nerves. 

No. The old Sam didn’t exist anymore. And it was better that way.

After a final drag on the cigarette, Sam stepped into his office and deposited the stack of papers on his desk for later examination. Right now, a chill evening in Nate’s and Elena’s company was definitely something he needed.

~*~

As usual, dinner at Nate’s and Elena’s place was one of the best moments Sam looked forward to after a stressful week. The couple lived almost five hours away from Sam’s place, but Sam didn’t mind to drive the long distance as long as he got to spend some time with them. As soon as he arrived, Nate welcomed him with a tight bear hug and ushered him into the living room where Elena was already sitting, a beaming smile spreading across her face when they entered the room.

“Sam,” Elena chirped while Sam leaned down to hug her, careful not to squash her round belly with his weight. “It’s been a while!”

“Hey, Elena.” Sam grinned at her and glanced down at her belly with a raised brow. “How’s the little one doing?”

Before Elena could reply, Nate sauntered towards her and placed a hand on her shoulder, flashing at Sam a proud grin, the little crow's feet around his eyes crinkling.

“Our girl is already seven months old, can you imagine? Soon, you’ll be an uncle.” 

He bowed down to rub at Elena’s curve, but she swatted Nate’s hand away with playful reproach. 

“Stop gushing and get Sam his beer. I’ll go make my mocktail.”

“Alright, alright,” Nate laughed and stretched a hand out to help Elena raise from her seat. While she slowly walked towards the kitchen, the younger Drake kept sending her adoring looks, and Sam couldn’t help but chuckle at the image he made. It almost made him jealous.

“Gosh, Nate. You’ve truly become a full fledged dad. Who would’ve thought?”

“Hey, cut that act, I know you think I’m ridiculous,” Nate snorted sheepishly and gave Sam a shove, which earned him a chuckle.

“No, I’m serious! You both make a cute picture.”

“I’m not sure if you’re teasing or not, but I’ll let it slide,” Nate laughed and shook his head. He pushed a fresh bottle of beer across the table towards Sam.

“Now tell me,” Nate grabbed his own beer and leaned back into the couch with a sigh, sending Sam an expectant look, “How’re your lectures going?”

Sam shrugged nonchalantly and took a swig from his beer. “The usual. Today was the last day of finals. Now that everything’s done, I can finally unwind for a bit. I still have to grade those damn test sheets though.”

“Hm. Aaand... no news from Sarah?” Nate wagged his eyebrows in a conspiratory manner and barked out a laugh when Sam hit his shin under the table.

“Geez, won’t you ever stop?” Sam huffed into his beer bottle in mild irritation. “I’m not interested.”

“I know, I’m just messin’ with you.” Nate clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder, making him grunt. “But jokes, aside. You seem rather weary lately… I just want to see you happy, you know?”

Sam squashed down a twinge of uneasiness before he put on a reassuring smile. 

“Heh, am I not?” he asked, inwardly wincing at the slightly defensive tone in his voice.

Nate, ever the observant, raised a skeptical brow, but to Sam’s relief the younger Drake let the subject drop and gave an answering shrug.

“Dunno.”

At that moment, Elena waltzed back into the living room, clapping her hands.

“Boys, help me set the table outside, will you? Oh, and Nate, the salad dressing won’t make itself.”

“Aye, Captain.”

The brothers exchanged amused looks before they stood up and followed Elena into the kitchen where it smelled like roasted chicken and tandoori spice, making Sam’s mouth water.

He assisted them with the dishes, and later on they spent the rest of the evening on the terrace behind the house, reveling in the warm temperature of the setting sun of June. The atmosphere was relaxed and cheerful, and Nate graced Elena’s and Sam’s ears with one of his horrible jokes, making them both snort in fond exasperation. While Sam watched the couple’s banter he couldn’t help but smile to himself, the tension of the long, stressful day finally fading away, even though Nate’s last comment was still nagging at his mind like an annoying fly.

~*~

The following days, Sam spent his time grading the test sheets, answering mails from his students and colleagues and making a few updates in his researches and lecture courses. Those tasks kept him busy for a while, but soon enough everything was done, and Sam found himself sitting in front of an unusually tidy desk and a clear mail inbox, which was actually a rare feat. Having nothing else to do left Sam with mixed feelings, like each time when summer break came around.

Sam sure was glad to have a little free time, but on the other hand he liked to keep his racing mind busy and focused. Teaching was actually something he’d never thought he would genuinely appreciate. However, this job lacked a certain kind of… thrill. A sensation he had only truly experienced decades ago, when he used to have a very different lifestyle.

With a deep sigh, Sam stood up from his desk and walked towards the window. He leaned his head against the cool glass, his breath creating a mist against the surface. It was a rainy day and the air was humid, but Sam wasn’t aware of it as he looked at nothing in particular and let his mind drift. Once again he felt the nagging urge to smoke, which made his agitation grow all the more. Fuck, he really needed to cut that crap someday…

Sam was about to surrender and reach for the pack of cigarettes when his work phone rang abruptly, making him stop in his tracks. 

_Jesus…_

With a grumble, Sam grabbed the phone from the table and frowned at the luminescent screen. _Unknown number_. It was common that he got many phone calls from people in the art and archaeology sphere, so he thought nothing more of it when he picked up and mumbled, “Drake speaking. Who’s calling?”

“Ah, Mister Drake. Excuse me for the disturbance. I’m calling on behalf of Mister Brydges from ‘ _Brydges Events_ ’.”

“‘Brydges’”?

Sam drummed his fingers distractedly against the window. He was sure he had heard that name before.

The caller hummed in acquiescence. The man’s voice was so soft and demure, Sam had to strain his ears in an attempt to discern his next words.

“Yes. I’m calling because Mister Brydges would like to make an appointment. He is currently planning an upcoming art exhibit, and his wish is to solicit your expertise concerning certain specific art pieces.”

Sam was about to ask the caller to be more specific when it suddenly dawned on him, and he sucked in a breath, eyes widening. Howard Brydges was a notorious art critic and exhibition commissioner who had organized several vernissages that had created a great buzz in the mainstream media, due to the fact that many celebrities always raved about him. In Sam’s honest opinion, he had never been much of a fan of those exhibits. Most contemporary art pieces that were presented there were a little tacky and over-the-top. Though, he had to admit that Brydges’ knowledge on various art topics where almost unbeatable.

But why did this guy need especially Sam’s expertise? Sure enough, Sam wasn’t that little-known either. And his own knowledge rivaled most specialists’, if he said so himself. But still.

“And to whom am I speaking?” Sam muttered, a bit suspicious.

“Oh, pardon me. I’m Mister Adrian Lee, Mister Brydges’ secretary and agent.”

“And he can’t call me himself?”

“Mister Brydges is a busy man,” the secretary drawled in that eerily sweet tone again, and Sam immediately decided he hated that voice, “But he is eager to meet you as soon as possible. We are aware that you must be quite occupied yourself. So, we hoped we could contact you before you have other priorities to attend. But if there is any issue, we’d be happy to call at another opportune time.”

Sam rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. Actually, the prospect of meeting _the_ great art critic wasn’t an unpleasant idea. But he wasn’t sure if he had the energy to discuss the validity of some sculpture done by another snobbish wannabe artist. Though… he was also bored as hell, and he knew full well that all he would do during his break was to pace around in his apartment, like some caged animal, if he didn’t find an occupation that kept his mind stimulated for weeks.

After debating for another second, Sam finally said, “Alright, I’ll meet him. But I won’t promise I’ll be that much of a help.”

“Mister Brydges has absolute faith in your competences, Mister Drake,” Mister Lee affirmed amiably. “Thank you for accepting.”

“So, what are those art pieces he wants me to inspect?”

“Mister Brydges will submit every necessary information to you as soon as you meet him. He is free to receive you this thursday at six pm. Is it to your convenience or shall I fix another date?”

Sam was gradually getting irritated by the man’s overly polite mannerisms, so he said quickly: “Yes. Thursday is fine.”

“Thursday it is then. Thank you, Mister Drake.”

After receiving the address of Brydges’ residence, Sam hung up and blinked at his phone, still confused. It might be an overreaction on his part, but Sam found the whole deal a tad bit surreal. Why would a man like Brydges call _him_?

 _Well, I’ll soon find out_ , Sam thought and grabbed a cigarette.

~*~

Sam did expect that this Brydges guy would live in a distinguished area with giant, ornate villas and overly neat porches. But he still couldn't suppress a low whistle when he pulled up in front of the gate separating him from Brydges’ house. It had been a while since he last frequented those kinds of places. He didn’t truly miss them, but he sure did enjoy a little bit of luxury from time to time in the past.

Before Sam could reach out a hand through the car’s window and press on the button of the intercom, the gate swung open with a slight creak, halting Sam in his movements. Of course there were cameras everywhere…

Shaking his head with a wry smirk, Sam entered the courtyard and parked his car next to a little fountain in front of the marble stairs leading towards the house. The building was mostly consisted of sharp angles and floor-to-ceiling windows, its plain, yet harmonious architecture evoking a minimalistic flair. Sam would have found the whole scenery a little sterile if it weren’t for the colorful, surrealist sculptures surrounding the building.

With slow steps, Sam ambled up the stairs. As soon as he arrived in front of the main door, it opened as if on cue, and a tall man in a black suit appeared in front of him. The man had short shorn hair and his dark, almost black eyes were framed by round, gold rimmed glasses that gave him an owlish look. His thin lips were pulled up in a soft yet peculiar smile, and Sam instantly thought about the secretary who’d called him.

“Mister Lee, I presume?” Sam asked a bit hesitantly, and the man nodded, taking a step to the side to let Sam in.

“Good evening, Mister Drake. You’re right on time. Mister Brydges is waiting for you.”

The agent turned around and walked ahead, which gave Sam the cue to follow him. They walked through a long, high-ceiling corridor that was decorated with giant photographs that seemed to have been taken in many different parts of the world. One scenery looked like it had been captured in Madagascar, and Sam had to think about Nate and his latest daredevil trip. Nate surely would have made an excited comment if he had seen this picture.

Sam was pulled out of his nostalgic thoughts when Lee opened another door and made a gesture for Sam to come in.

“Mister Brydges is right here. If you need anything, like a drink, let me know.”

The door was closed behind him and Sam found himself alone in a vast room, which seemed to be some sort of study room, if the countless rows of bookshelves spreading across the walls were of any indication. The floor-to-ceiling windows let in the rays of the evening sun, immersing the study in a soft, inviting glow. There were a few sinuously shaped glass sculptures reflecting the light, which made Sam squint against the slight burn in his eyes. 

He didn’t see at first the dark silhouette of a man moving in the opposite end of the room, and he almost jumped when a deep, hoarse voice chimed, “Ahh, Mister Drake. I’m glad to make your acquaintance, finally.”

The man stepped into the sunlight, his previously concealed features coming to light. He was skinny, almost skeletal, but he carried himself in the self-assured manner of a man who was used to being looked up to. His wrinkled face had the sharp, watchful features of a hawk, and his long silver hair was tied into a loose ponytail, which only accentuated his unusual yet charismatic appearance. The dark blue suit he wore made the grey of his pale eyes stand out, and Sam had the uneasy feeling of being scrutinized, those milky eyes boring through him like pins.

Feeling suddenly unusually sheepish, Sam cleared his throat and stepped towards the man, who was none other than Mister Howard Brydges himself.

“Good evening. The pleasure is mine.”

They shook hands, and Sam was surprised by the force of Brydges’ grip.

The art critic gave a toothy smile, which softened a bit his stern features, and Sam felt the tightness in his shoulders lessen a little. He wasn’t aware he had been tense the whole time.

“Let’s have a seat,” Brydges said and guided Sam towards a sitting area composed of two couches and a low ebony table. “Do you want something to drink? I have black tea, but Lee can bring you another beverage if you wish so.”

Sam shook his head politely and took a seat on one of the couches.

“Tea will suffice, thank you.”

“I feel a bit embarrassed to have insisted on an appointment so quickly. I hope Lee wasn’t too pushy with my demand.”

“Oh, there is no need to apologize. I’m just a bit surprised to be honest.” Sam inclined his head in thanks when Brydges leaned forward to serve him a cup of tea from a steaming moroccan-style pot. “I was just wondering why a renowned art critic like yourself would seek me out of all people.”

Sam leaned back and took a sip of the tea. It tasted expensive, which was no surprise.

He added with a smirk, “It’s not as if you’re already surrounded by experts who are surely more well versed than me in the matter of contemporary art.”

Brydges didn’t bat an eye at the slight jab in Sam’s wording. Instead, he hummed, the corners of his lips quirking up as he sipped his tea. His movements were slow, yet elegant in a calculating manner as he deposited the cup on the polished table.

“You underestimate your popularity, Mister Drake. I have read your book about the concept of counterfeiting in the art sphere. And I’ve also followed your last seminar on the latest findings concerning the mysterious case of Dürer’s copycat.”

The art critic’s pale eyes flashed as he smiled in amusement upon seeing the surprised look in Sam’s features.

“You see, I can guarantee that I’ve made the right choice in asking for your help.”

Feeling both touched and confused by the apparent interest Brydges had for his works, Sam could only scratch the back of his head, not knowing how to respond.

“Well, uh, I feel honored,” Sam replied with raised brows. “But I don’t know how I can proceed if you don’t tell me what exactly you need me to assist you with. Your agent told me you were working on a new exhibit.”

At those words, Brydges’ eyes turned somber, a shadow covering his wrinkled face, making him suddenly seem older than he already was. He let out a sigh as he reclined in his seat and scrutinized Sam’s face with a hard look.

“I actually wanted to broach the subject on a more… gentle manner. But I won’t beat around the bush,” he said, making Sam frown in slight worry. “The... art exhibit story was just a pretence to make you accept this appointment.”

A sudden sense of annoyance and suspicion made Sam’s eyes turn into slits. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Brydges took another sip from his tea without breaking eye contact. 

“I want you to bring something back to me... An artifact of great importance that was originally mine.”

 _What the fuck…_ Sam blinked, mouth slightly agape. This was slowly getting weird. He tried to repress the growing irritation in his tone when he said: “Look. I don’t know if it’s some kind of joke, because I don’t find it funny. If you’re serious, you must be addressing the wrong person, because I don’t understand an ounce of what you’re saying.”

“Oh I _am_ serious! I’m sure you’re _the_ right person for this job.” The art critic put the cup back on the table with a loud clatter. His eyes were gleaming. “I know exactly who you are, Samuel _Morgan_.”

The room fell silent, the uttered words still hanging in the air like a heavy, oppressive cloud. Sam felt his heart lurch, his breath cutting short. Flashbacks of past events surged up before his inner eye, making his hands sweat and head spin. No… It couldn’t be…

A sudden wave of anger and dread made Sam surge up from his seat and take a step back with a snarl. His back inadvertently collided with something that fell and scattered to the ground with a crash, but he didn’t care.

“H-How... How can you-- It’s impossible.” Seeing the amused look on Brydges’ face made his anger spike all the more. “Who gave you that name? You aren’t supposed to know… _Nobody_!”

Sam was gradually on the verge of hyperventilating, and he quickly ground his teeth together and balled his hands into fists, heaving out a stuttering breath. It was as if he was in a bad dream. How was it possible for Brydges to know about one of his aliases and then tie it to _him_? Yet Sam had done everything in his power to destroy each little evidence that alluded even slightly to his past. How was it then even possible for some random guy to dig it up and blast everything in his face?!

Sam’s derailing thoughts came to an abrupt halt when Brydges lifted his hands in a placating gesture and said: “Please, I didn’t bring you here to blackmail or attack you. If you hear me out, I can explain how I got that information.” 

The art critic’s expression turned grim, grey eyes going downcast. 

“Believe me when I tell you that I don’t give a damn about your criminal past. All I want is someone to bring my most dearest treasure back to me. And the only one who can help me is _you_.”

Sam fixed the older man with a glare, still suspicious about his intentions.

“How can I trust your words if you clearly have something on me?” he pressed through gritted teeth. “How can I collaborate with you knowing that at any given moment you can broadcast my past deeds all over the world?”

“I don’t have any evidence of what you’ve done. It’s that simple,” Brydges deadpanned with arched brows. “Even if I wanted to hand you over to the police, I wouldn’t be able to, because I can’t prove your past actions. And besides--”

Brydges gave a cough and leaned back with a heavy sigh.

“I would incriminate myself too, because what I’m about to ask you to do right now isn’t completely legal either. We can both agree that we don’t want to attract any trouble with the law.”

At those words, Sam ran a trembling hand through his hair, feeling conflicted. His heart was still beating erratically. Brydges seemed to have a point there. _Fucking hell…_ He had sensed from the start that something wasn’t sitting right, since that goddamn call from Brydges’ agent. And yet, here he was, walking straight into a trap like a fucking amateur.

Although Sam was still a little shaken by the whole situation, he was slightly reassured by Brydges’ words, and he slowly walked back towards the couch, his jaw working.

His tone was sharp when he said: “I want you to tell me how you got my alias and what makes your so-called artifact so important that it gives you the right to mess up my life. I’ve dealt with enough sneaky assholes like you, so you better tell the truth because I’ll find out the moment I’ll sense that you’ve lied to me.”

In response to Sam’s hardly veiled threat, the art critic just gave an unimpressed look, but then he nodded and replied solemnly, “Just as I said, I’ll tell you everything. I just beg you to listen ‘till the end before you make any judgement about my integrity.”

Sam crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against one of the armrests, eyeing Brydges suspiciously.

“I’m all ears.”

“You must surely remember when-- I think it was eleven years ago…” Brydges folded his hands together, looking pensive. “There was that one event where the count of Longway had bought one of Van Eyck’s lesser known paintings from some black market place.”

As soon as the name ‘Longway’ was uttered, Sam had to suppress an unpleasant shudder, remembering all too well that time when he had attempted to steal Van Eyck’s painting from the Longway estate and nearly failed; which would have signed his death sentence, knowing how heavily guarded the count’s place was. Well, Sam had to admit that his own cockiness had also contributed to him being almost detected. It was actually a miracle that he hadn’t been caught during the heist.

“Yes… Yeah, I remember,” Sam muttered, which gave Brydges the cue to continue.

“Well, soon after his purchase, Longway had hosted a gathering where _I_ was invited. I remember him boasting carelessly about his new acquisition in front of me and the other guests.” Brydges made a grimace, as though the memory was particularly painful. “I can clearly recall everyone being impressed by that. As if his actions weren’t immoral in the first place. But I digress…”

Brydges cleared his throat. 

“The very next day, I got wind that Longway’s Van Eyck painting had vanished. Just like that,” he almost murmured in a triumphant tone. “I found the whole deal quite comical, I must say. I was extremely eager to know who was daring enough to infiltrate de Longway estate and disappear like a ghost, without any trace...”

Suddenly, Brydges’ eyes took on a sharp glint as they snapped up and fixed Sam with a piercing stare. Sam had to fight the nagging urge to look away, his heart still beating fast.

Brydges went on, “In my head I went through each and every guest I had seen during the gathering, until I remembered _one_ person that stood out to me… I remember seeing _you_ amongst the crowd, watching Longway’s bragging from afar. You were the only one who didn’t look awed in the slightest by what was happening around him. I can assure you, I’ve been attending countless gatherings in my life, and each and every person from the upper class acts the same. Same mannerisms. Same snobbish attitude. That is why I instantly noticed you. Don’t look surprised. I have eyes, and I can always tell when someone doesn’t come from the same background as people like myself, even when they try to put on an act.”

“So you saw me not laughing when the others laughed, cool,” Sam deadpanned. “That still doesn’t explain how you came to know that I was the one who’d stolen that painting.”

“It’s simple. Since your presence had piqued my interest, I asked one of Longway’s staff members who you were. They told me your name was ‘Samuel Morgan’, that you were some rich kid from Australia who wanted to do some trading with one of Longway’s family members. I was surprised I’ve never heard of Longway having connections in Australia, but I thought nothing more of it.”

The art critic paused and picked up his cup, leisurely taking another sip as his unblinking eyes stayed focused on Sam.

“That is when suddenly, there had been a power cut in the middle of the gathering. We were all plunged in complete darkness for at least fifteen minutes, since the staff seemed to have trouble solving the electricity problem. As soon as the lights came back I immediately noticed that you weren’t in the room anymore.”

Sam couldn’t suppress a grin after hearing those words, recalling that event as if it was yesterday. The thing with the blackout had all been Victor Sully’s doing. Whenever Sam needed help for a particularly nerve-wracking theft, he would always call his partner in crime who had a knack for electronics and other technological stuff that came quite in handy when it came to trespass a heavily guarded place. Victor had retired long before Sam. As far as Sam knew, Victor was working now as a freelance programmer, tirelessly moving from one place to the next with his plane.

“You’ve come then to the conclusion that it must have been me who had stolen the painting,” Sam said, a bit angry by the fact that he hadn’t been more discreet at that time. It was especially the kind of frighteningly observant people like Brydges who were always tricky to deal with and to avoid.

Brydges arched his brows and exclaimed, “Oh, believe me when I say that I had my doubts! As soon as I got the news that the painting was gone, I put two and two together. But I had to be sure it was you. I was… intrigued. I started doing some research and, oddly enough, I found little to nothing about anything that could have been related to your name. No Morgan in Australia. You were just… _gone_. As though you had never existed.”

There was a brief, heavy silence. Then: “For a while I stopped looking. But sometimes, here and then, I would hear about another case of a stolen art piece. To me it was like playing a game of cat and mouse… As soon as I thought that I was on the verge of finding you, you disappeared again. Until that fateful day I finally saw your face in an article…”

Brydges pointed a finger at Sam with a smirk. Sam had the sudden urge to wipe that smug grin away from that fucker.

“‘Samuel Drake’, famous lecturer, teaching history of art,” Brydges drawled theatrically. “How fitting.”

“Alright, great. You got me.” Sam made a derisive hand gesture. “You want me to applaud you? I actually pity you for trying to find me for more than a decade. For what? Sounds creepy to me.”

“As I said before,” Brydges said calmly, ignoring Sam’s taunt, “My intention isn’t to seek harm. I’m seeking help. I need someone who is well versed in the art of thievery. Someone who has experience and doesn’t shy away from the toughest challenge. I’ve waited so long for this day to come.”

Sam felt his stomach twist at those words, his breath hitching. _This can’t be happening..._

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m not some thief you can hire for your dirty work,” he growled. “This… This life I once had is over.”

“If I wanted some seedy thief, I wouldn’t have searched for you during all those years, Mister Drake,” Brydges exclaimed, and Sam was astonished to see a glimmer of desperation in the art critic’s cold eyes. “I _know_ that you are someone who has a deep sense of justice. All those paintings you were stealing… You saved them from the dirty hands of those criminals who don’t appreciate the true value of the art pieces they possess. You know that it’s true, you can’t deny it.”

Sam fidgeted on the spot, feeling distraught. A mix of denial, anger and bitterness made a knot form in his throat, almost making him sick.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, old man,” Sam barked. “All of this was a long time ago. You haven’t the slightest idea of how it was. Even if I wanted to come back to my past activities, it’s too late. Now I’m living an honest life, and I intend to maintain it that way.”

“Then at least listen to my request. After that, if you still maintain your position, I’ll accept your decision.” 

Brydges suddenly looked tired and defeated, his wrinkled hands folding in his lap as he sank back in his seat. Sam almost felt sorry when Brydges added: “I’m a proud man, Mister Drake, but I don’t feel ashamed to admit that I’m desperate. I don’t have many years left to live. All I want is to know that my most precious treasure is in safe hands.”

 _Fucking hell..._ Sam rubbed his face and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. On one hand he was curious to know what in the living hell Brydges was so desperate about, but on the other hand Sam just wanted to turn around and leave. A voice in his head was screaming at him that it was a bad idea to even listen to this guy who had just put his life upside down. And yet…

“I’ll listen,” Sam said with a sense of finality in his tone that left no place for rebuttal. “But I’m making it clear: I’m _not_ going to steal anything.”

Brydges looked like he was going to argue, but then something in his eyes shifted, and after a tense pause, he gave a curt nod.

“If you wish so. I can’t force you,” he said. “Please, sit down. What I’m going to say may take a while.”

Sam obeyed reluctantly, making himself as comfortable as his stressed nerves allowed. 

After that, Brydges nodded again, leaning forward with a grim expression.

“I own many things, Mister Drake. I’m not a materialistic man, but what you’re seeing around you is what I’ve inherited from my family and ancestors. Most of my possessions are centuries old. Yet… the more I age, the less they mean to me.” Brydges sighed deeply before he went on, “The only object that I hold very dearly is something that belonged to my deceased wife, Mary. Bless her soul…”

“Oh.” Sam’s heart clenched. He didn’t expect to hear that. “I’m… sorry.”

Brydges shook his head and made a fleeting hand gesture.

“Don’t. I’ve dealt with my grief. But what pains me deeply, is that my wife’s most loved possession has been taken away from her when she was still alive. I’ll never forget the anguish in her eyes.”

“What happened?” Sam asked, unable to hide the concern in his tone.

“You won’t believe me when I say that there was a time where me and Mary had great money problems. For various reasons… We were deep in debt and were on the verge of losing everything. My art gallery wasn’t doing well, so we needed to save it as soon as we could. That’s when the Adler family came into play.” 

Brydges’ expression turned somber as he uttered the name, and Sam immediately sensed what was about to come.

“The Adler family?”

Brydges nodded. 

“Have you ever heard of them? They are one of the wealthiest families in the United States, if not the world. They run a big business empire and have connections all around the globe.”

Sam hummed, “Yes, they are quite hard to miss.” He arched one brow. “So, you’re close to them?”

“I wish I wasn’t,” the art critic muttered, contempt dripping in his tone. “It was my wife who had had a tight relationship with them before I met her. She has never liked to mention her past, even after years we lived together. All I know is that she had been working as a private teacher for the youngest Adler who owns now the family’s business empire. Raphael Adler, that ungrateful, cruel monster.”

Brydges gave another grave sigh and took a gulp of his tea. His hands were trembling slightly.

“My apologies. Whenever I think about him, it gets my blood boiling.”

Sam was unable now to suppress his growing curiosity. “What has he done?”

“Given that my wife used to be close to Raphael, unsurprisingly, she sought him out in order to ask him for help. Of course he was literally drowning in money. I was pleasantly surprised the moment I saw that all our debts were paid, thanks to him. But I immediately sensed that there had to be a price. Since when are the Adlers known for their philanthropy?! I didn’t have to ask my wife in order to discover what he had done to her.”

With a brusque movement, Brydges slammed the teacup on the table, almost making Sam flinch.

“That bastard had blackmailed her! The woman who had seen him grow and had always been faithful to the Adlers! When Mary begged him for help, he took advantage of her vulnerability and took her most dearest possession away from her.”

Brydges leaned back in his seat and brushed a stray strand of his silver hair back behind his ear, breathing heavily. 

“For you, it might be nothing more than a cheap trinket. But to us, it means the world. This object has a deep emotional value to Mary, and Raphael _knew_ it.”

Sam watched the art critic with a frown, feeling both conflicted and quite sad about the whole story. It wasn’t new to him to see people of high position abusing their power and taking advantage of others. Sadly, that was how the world was run. But that didn’t mean that he had to adhere to it. Sam had always despised pricks like that. That was one of the reasons why he felt a self-righteous sense of satisfaction whenever he stole something from one of those people.

“Tell me what it is, that ‘trinket’ of yours,” Sam said, to which Brydges nodded and raised from his seat with a groan.

“Let me show you a picture of it, so you know what I’m asking you to look out for.”

Sam followed the art critic towards the other side of the room where there was a large study table. It was covered in books of various sizes and heavy folders that were aligned meticulously. A few old pictures were scattered on the table’s surface. Sam saw some family pictures, landscapes… Others were too washed out to be recognizable.

Brydges picked one photograph with delicate fingers and showed it to Sam.

“This is the artifact Adler took away from my wife.”

Intrigued, Sam inspected the picture. It showed a wooden box that contained an oval pendant made up of gold and mother-of-pearl. Little sinuous flowers were carved into its gleaming surface, their petals composed of labradorite stones. It was attached to a dainty gold necklace and, given the size of its container, Sam assumed that the pendant was probably the size of a walnut. Sam didn’t know the carat size, but this medallion still seemed to be quite expensive.

 _Yeah, ‘trinket’ my ass…_ Sam thought.

He was about to give the picture back, when he saw something that made him halt. There... just next to the hole that let the gold chain through, there was a tiny, almost unrecognizable knob. That gave Sam the clue that the pendant could be opened.

“Does this pendant contain anything?” Sam asked while handing Brydges the picture over.

“Actually, it’s a watch,” Brydges replied, looking down at the picture with a forlorn look. “It’s a jewel that has been transmitted through multiple generations. Mary had received it as a gift from her mother. She was very fond of this watch. She always said it was the only thing that she had left from her family.”

Brydges lifted his head and looked at Sam with a wry smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“As you can see, Mister Drake, this watch had a great value for her, and she has been robbed by the same man who she trusted. Since my dear wife is dead, the pendant is the only thing that connects me to her. I need it back where it truly belongs. Back to me... To _her_.”

Sam blinked in surprise when Brydges reached out a trembling hand and grabbed his arm, his pale eyes looking up at him with desperate insistence.

“I won’t rest until I get Mary’s watch back. I don’t have many years to live, Mister Drake. I can’t rest beside my wife without her being reunited with her treasure. You might think I’m a fool, going to this extent just for some object. But to me, it means everything. And I want Raphael Adler to pay for his greed and betrayal.”

Sam swallowed, dropping his gaze, unable to look into the art critic’s pleading eyes. What in the hell had he gotten himself into? What Brydges was asking him to do was to literally go into the lion’s den. Steal from none other than _the_ Adler family! Even if he managed to get to that goddamn watch by some miracle; that didn’t mean that Sam wouldn’t be putting his own life at risk and cause great collateral damage by provoking the Adler’s ire. This would have horrible consequences, of that he was sure. And besides that, Sam’s carefully ordered life would literally crumble on itself, without possibility of coming back. If he ever accepted Brydges’ request, Sam could say adios to the semblance of normalcy he had so meticulously worked on during the past years.

_Is it worth it? Is it worth it to throw away your newly gained freedom for this guy? For a pathetic family quarrel that doesn’t concern you?_

Sam bit his lip, shaking his head with a sigh. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, putting a hand on Brydges’ own still clenched around his arm. “I feel for your loss and anguish. I truly do. But I can’t do this. By stealing this watch, I’m putting an end to my new lifeblood. Forever. I’m not the vigilante you’re taking me for. This… life I had… I can’t go through that again.”

A flash of hurt passed over the art critic’s features, but it disappeared as soon as it came. Brydges gave a curt nod, looking calm as ever, but Sam could sense the deception, and it made his heart sink with regret.

“I understand,” Brydges said after a moment of tense silence, patting Sam’s arm. “I… was expecting this answer, actually. I think even my wife would feel bad for me causing you this kind of trouble.”

The older man released his hold on Sam’s arm with a wry smile.

“A foolish part of me was still hoping that my last desperate measure would make a change.”

All Sam could do was nod, trying to convey his genuine regret as best as he could.

“I’m sorry. I really am... I hope you can still make peace with the pain you had to endure.” After an awkward silence, Sam reached out a hand, hesitantly. “It was still a pleasure meeting you, Mister Brydges. Although I would’ve preferred we’d meet under different circumstances. Oh, and uh… sorry about the broken sculpture.”

At that, the art critic huffed a chuckle and met Sam in a handshake.

“It was a pleasure meeting you too. You’re an interesting man, Mister Drake.”

Sam nodded again, bidding one last goodbye before he slowly turned around and walked back towards the door. 

He was about to turn down the doorknob when Brydges chimed, “Mister Drake.”

Sam halted in his movements and turned his head. Brydges was leaning against the table, looking exhausted. But his gaze was sharp when he looked at Sam and said, “I’ll just ask you to ponder on this issue for a while. Please. If you ever want to reconsider my request, you can always contact me.”

Sam watched the older man in silence, letting his uttered words sink in.

“Goodbye, Mister Brydges,” he said after a brief pause, and left the room.

Sam wasn’t surprised to see Brydges’ agent already waiting for him in the corridor. He escorted Sam outside and inclined his head in a farewell gesture.

“Goodbye, Mister Drake. I’d like to add that Mister Brydges pays well… If you ever have a change of mind.”

Sam gave the secretary a side-glance, resisting the urge to scoff.

“Yeah, whatever.”

With those words, he stepped into the car and left Brydges’ estate with a heavy weight in his stomach.

~*~

The next days went by in a blur, and Sam still kept replaying the past events in his head over and over again. He couldn't count anymore the amount of cigarettes he kept smoking. His mind was restless and he didn’t know how to stop his jumbling thoughts from invading his mind, keeping him awake at night.

Sam was sitting in front of his laptop in his apartment. His inbox was open with unread emails, but his eyes didn’t focus on anything, his mind drifting elsewhere like each time when Brydges’ words came back floating into his head.

With a frustrated groan, Sam hid his face in his hands. _Why are you still thinking about it, Sam?_

Sam had made up his mind long ago. He wasn’t going to follow Brydges’ request. Too many stakes were at hand. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to put his stable future in danger for this. He had to admit that the prospect of a new, thrilling theft wasn’t that unappealing. The famous saying said that when what is natural is driven off, it returns at a gallop. Sam was well aware of his inner drive that was lying dormant inside him. He was a daredevil at heart, he couldn’t deny it. But he wasn’t the same young, fearless man anymore who thought that life was just a great adventure. He had paid the price enough for his reckless actions. 

He might also have gained experience during the years, but what was asked of him right now wasn’t some mere art theft. Sam was literally stepping into a family drama of a large scale, and deep down, a nagging voice kept telling him that there was more to this story than what Brydges had admitted.

Sam was about to close his mailbox when his phone rang, and he rubbed his eyes, sighing, before glancing at the screen. It was Nate. 

The same day Sam had left Brydges’ house, he had called Nate and told him everything that had happened. Without surprise, Nate had been alarmed by the whole event. And since then he called Sam almost every day, unable to stifle the deep worry he felt for his older brother.

Without hesitation, Sam picked up.

“Hey, bro,” he said, feeling instantly more appeased in Nate’s presence.

“Hey.” Sam heard some shuffling at the other end before Nate’s voice chimed in, “How’re you feeling?”

“Honestly, I don’t know… Confused.”

“I can imagine,” Nate muttered solemnly. “I’m still quite shocked by the fact that this dude has managed to dig up your past.”

“Yeah, me too. But it had to happen sooner or later, I guess.” Sam distractedly scrolled through his mails. “I can only take him at his word and hope he doesn’t try to mess with me in the future.”

“I don’t know… I still don’t trust this guy.”

“You think _I_ do? The only thing I’m sure of is that he seems truly desperate to be reunited with his wife’s lost pendant. He spent more than a decade to find me, Nate. That’s _insane_.”

“That’s why you shouldn’t accept his request,” Nate said in an urgent voice. “He’s hiding something. I’m certain that there is more to that pendant than he cares to admit. True, he might be right about the Adlers. They’re known for being absolute pricks. But that doesn’t mean that Brydges is some innocent lamb.”

Nate sighed, sounding anxious, before he went on, “He is way too obsessed with that thing. And if this Raphael Adler has truly robbed Mary’s pendant, then there must be something special to it that has even made a fucking Adler eager to possess it.”

Sam paused in his scrolling, biting his lip. 

“Yes,” he agreed, frowning pensively. “There is something that I can’t really put my finger on. This is definitely fishy… And that’s what drives me so crazy. I-- I can’t help it, but I’m curious to know what’s the deal to this whole affair!”

“ _Sam_.” Nate’s voice took on a concerned tone, like each time when Sam was about to walk into trouble. “Don’t tell me you want to follow Brydges’ request.”

“I… I want to investigate it,” Sam admitted. “I can make Brydges believe that I’m going to steal this thing. He doesn’t have to know what I’m really going to do.”

“Fucking hell, Sam. You think that this is worth it? You might lose _everything_.” Nate’s voice grew louder, as though he was pressing the phone to his mouth. “This isn’t a game.”

Sam sighed, a bit frustrated. It pained him to see Nate so worried.

“I'm aware of that, Nate. I’m not naïve. That’s why I have to think things through. If I’m ever going to do this, I’ll be prepared.”

“Sam… Do you hear yourself? You’re standing between two wealthy, influential families who are fighting over an artifact that might be more valuable than it appears! You can be prepared as much as you can be, it still won’t prevent the trouble it’ll cause you. Does your own life mean nothing to you?”

“Nathan. I _know_. Trust me, I’ve thought about the risks. I’m as much concerned to lose everything I worked so hard for as you. Especially the thought of losing you and Elena… I wouldn’t handle it.”

“Then drop it, Sam. Please.” Sam was sure he heard a tremor in Nate’s voice, and it made his heart twinge with guilt. “Let it go. Stay.”

“I can’t promise anything,” Sam muttered lamely, to which Nate huffed out a tired sigh.

“I know you’re stubborn, and I can’t stop you if you ever decide to do this-- honestly suicidal investigation. Just… please. At least, think it through. Think about you.” 

There was silence before Nate added in a feeble voice, “Think about us.”

Sam remained silent, inner conflict making the muscles of his jaw tense up. Then he nodded begrudgingly, although Nate couldn’t see it. 

“Yeah,” he relented after a brief pause. “Will do, Nate.”

He heard Nate sigh in relief, even though he knew Nate wasn’t totally convinced.

“Thank you… Are you still coming over to our place tomorrow?”

The hopeful tone in his brother’s voice made Sam smile, already feeling consoled by the prospect of seeing him and Elena again.

“Of course, punk.”

“Cool. See you then.” Nate’s breath hitched, as if he was going to add something. But then he said, “Be careful, Sam.”

Sam hummed.

“Yeah… See ya tomorrow, Nate.”

Sam hung up and stared at his computer screen, feeling lost. _Fuck_ … And there Sam thought that talking about his problems would make things easier, but now he found himself wanting to investigate the Brydges and Adler case more than before. Call it intuition, but Sam could sense that there was some occult matter behind this pendant that needed to be unveiled.

Under a sudden impulse, Sam leaned towards the keyboard and typed ‘ _Raphael Adler_ ’ into the search bar. Instantly, the page was filled with articles and headlines talking about the new heir of the great Adler business empire.

Sam scrolled through a multitude of texts alluding to Raphael’s heritage and his motivations concerning his business management. Nothing seemed particularly interesting, besides the one and other weird gossip-website article that talked about Raphael’s supposed love for fencing, art museums and regular trips to mediterranean countries. At the mention of ‘art museum’, Sam perked up, arching a brow. 

_Huh…_

Sam clicked on another article written one month ago that mentioned the inauguration of a new prestigious art gallery in the city of Venice. A gallery which apparently Raphael Adler had sponsored, because right next to the article was a picture showing Raphael and the owner of the gallery during a handshake, both men standing next to each other and smiling at the camera.

Upon further inspection, Sam couldn’t help his surprise at how young the Adler heir appeared to be. He looked like he was around the age of thirty. Though, there was something to those heavy-lidded, greenish eyes that made him look more mature than he was. Or maybe it also had to do with his face that maintained a sense of unsettling sternness despite the toothy smile he showed on the picture. His brown hair was slicked back in an immaculate fashion, which only strengthened his harsh appearance. Sam had the fleeting impression that Raphael Adler was someone that he shouldn’t underestimate, if their paths should ever cross, that is.

Sam was about to click on another picture when something caught his eye. There, right between Raphael’s clavicles, peeking through the folds of his button-up shirt, hung a golden jewel that almost looked like--

“What the hell…” 

Sam zoomed into the picture, heart beating erratically. His eyes widened, and he couldn’t suppress a whistle as his gaze roamed over the screen. 

Mary’s pendant.

There was no doubt. This was the watch Brydges tried so hard to obtain, and Adler was literally wearing it around his neck, never losing sight of it. Clever bastard.

This only strengthened Sam’s conviction that there was truly something special to that mysterious artifact. Brydges was hiding further information from him, of that Sam was sure now. The conflict between Raphael and Brydges ran deeper than what transpired to the eye. And the focal point of this was Mary Brydges. Everything was connected to her, but there was a huge wall of mystery surrounding her, and Sam was eager to solve it.

Of its own accord, Sam’s hand reached for his phone and dialed Brydges’ number.

It only rang two times before Lee’s susurrant voice flowed from the speaker.

“Mister Drake.”

“Yeah, hi. I’d like to talk to Brydges, please,” Sam drawled, his eyes still fixed on Raphael’s face and the pendant around his neck. 

A smirk spread slowly across his face.

~*~

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed, despite the messy writing. :')


End file.
